


Saturday Night Special

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Gerard walks in on Frank</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Night Special

Gerard lets himself in and ambles to the kitchen. He’s got two six packs of beer tucked under one arm, and a bag of Doritos in the other hand with his keys. He rounds the corner off the little entryway and stops, barely managing to keep from dropping the beer.

Frank is sprawled on the couch, his shirt hiked up so the hem is under his chin and all Gerard can see is pale skin and dark ink. He tries to keep his eyes there, but they fall lower to where Frank’s hand is wrapped around his dick.

“Holy shit, Frank.” He actually loses his grip on the six-pack that’s just resting under his arm, and it falls to the floor. One of the cans springs a leak, and a fine mist spits out over the floor and the hem of Gerard’s black jeans.

Frank groans and shifts his grip, his fingers curling tighter. The room smells like beer and lotion and sweat. Frank’s pants are in a pile at his left ankle, his right leg bare except for the bunched up gym sock that’s half off his foot. “The…the fuck, Gee.”

Gerard just stares, memorizing details, sketching the scene in his head. “You…you’re…”

Frank doesn’t stop, probably can’t. Gerard gets caught in the pull and stretch of skin, the steady rhythm of Frank’s hand. Frank’s thighs are pale, spread wide and dusted with dark hair. Gerard’s eyes flicker over the matching black tangle at the base of Frank’s dick. He takes a step forward, setting the remaining six-pack on the card table on top of the Doritos, not even hearing the crunch. Frank’s breathing is unsteady and rough, the flames of the tattoo on his chest moving, flickering.

“Look…fuck, Frankie. Look at you.”

Frank opens his eyes, his pupils blown, and he can’t hold Gerard’s gaze at all, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Gerard tries looking at everything to take it all in, but he keeps getting caught by pieces of the whole. Frank’s tortured expression, the tattoos on his chest, the muscles of his arms flexing with each stroke, the thrust of his hips as he pushes up into his fist, the way his thigh tightens as his foot presses down against the sofa.

“Look so hot, Frankie. Fucking…fucking _art_.” He moves even closer until he can see Frank’s balls, tight against his body. “Fuck. Touch.”

Frank’s entire body shudders and the fingers of the hand he has wrapped around the base of his cock curl down over his balls. He squeezes and Gerard groans, sinking to his knees beside the couch. Frank’s voice is rough, strangled. “F-fuck, Gee.”

Gerard gasps and his head falls, his forehead landing on Frank’s thigh. “Fucking gorgeous. Just…” He turns his head and meets Frank’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Frank’s head falls back onto the arm of the couch. His hips jerk hard and he comes. Gerard inhales sharply as the hot come splatters across his face, thick stripes of it in his hair, dripping down and catching his eyelashes.

“What…” Frank catches his breath then exhales roughly, lifting his head to look at Gerard. “What the fuck?”

“I…I brought beer?” Gerard blinks and there are fine threads of come stretching down to his bottom lashes. He rubs his eyes and blinks again, wiping spunk onto his thigh. “For tonight. And chips.”

“You watched me.”

“You’re kind of hot.” He runs a hand through his hair then looks at it, wiping more come on his jeans.

“You’re disgusting.” Frank laughs. “Fuck, you’re going to _wash_ those, right?”

“Sure. Laundry’s on Sunday. I think.” His brow furrows and he licks his lips, frowning when Frank makes a noise. “What?”

“You’re fucking licking up my come.” Frank takes his shirt off and uses it to clean up the mess on his stomach and thighs. “Jesus.”

“I…sorry? It’s on my face.”

“I _know_ ,” Frank reminds him, his voice rough. “I just…fuck, I didn’t expect porn in my living room, okay?”

“But you were jerking off. That’s porn.”

“I didn’t expect…” Frank sighs. “I didn’t expect _you_. I mean, to make…shit. I was fucking _thinking_ about you.”

“About me? What about me?”

“Just.” Frank shakes his head and shifts to grab his boxers.

Gerard reaches out and touches the bottom feathers of one of Frank’s swallows. “You were jerking off thinking about me?”

“No. Maybe. Shit. I need a beer.” He moves off the couch and toward the beer, sidestepping the foamy yellow puddle on the floor. He peels one of the six-pack free and pops it open. Gerard watches him swallow several times before his eyes drop to Frank’s hips, to the low line of his boxer’s waistband. The loose fabric doesn’t hide the fact that Frank’s aware that Gerard’s looking at him, that he _likes_ Gerard looking at him.

“Me too. Beer too.” Gerard gets up, tripping over Frank’s discarded pants. He stumbles against the table, slipping in the puddle of beer and landing on his ass. “Shit.”

“Now you _really_ need to wash your pants.”

“Or take them off.”

“Mikey’ll be home soon.” Frank raises an eyebrow then takes a long drink from his beer. “Maybe keep them on for now.”


End file.
